Christmas Cake
by cerespallas
Summary: Mikan x Natsume, Hotaru x Yoichi - Sequel to Seven Days of the Worst Wedding Ever: Five year after Natsume and Mikan's wedding, Hotaru showed up on their doorstep with her son in tow. All she wants now is to get away from it all. One thing she learns in life, she never gets what she wants.
1. The Old Maid Comes to Town

**Before we begin...**

Story type: post canon story, post final arc, 20-30 year old characters

Sequel to the Seven Days to The Worst Wedding Ever, story about Mikan and Natsume's wedding. It is necessary that you read that one first :)

Genre: Romance/Humor

Pairings: Hotaru x Yoichi (_gasp! Yes, I know_.) Mikan x Natsume, Aoi x Luca

Warnings: a lot of hints of suggestible situations, questionable intentions

_\- About my stories:_

Maybe it's best to say that I never create a perfect character. Everybody has flaws, and if a character has to suffer to make a believable flow, I am sure to make them suffer. Nobody escapes what needs to be done.

_\- Disclaimer and story explanation:_

I don't own Gakuen Alice. The story is mine, though, and so does the plot.

Summary:

Look at the pairings above? When you're done blaspheming and cursing me, and if you're curious about how the pairing would even work (because… _wow, seriously_?) it's all here.

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**Chapter One**

**The Old Maid Comes To Town**

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If anyone, _anyone_, offered to introduce her to _someone_ again this week, she was going to kill them. And she meant it.

Dr. Hotaru Imai, B. Sc., M. Sc., M. Eng., M. Tech., Ph. D, sat in the back seat of the taxi, holding the hand of a five year old boy, and glared at the back of the driver's head.

The taxi wasn't moving after getting out of the tollbooth from the airport. Hotaru had considered walking all the way to the Alice Academy. After all, she had worn her brown flats, blue jeans and white plain shirt in preparation for the long flights. That was her plan, before she looked up the length of her journey from the airport to her goal in her smartphone app. Thirty five kilometers from the toll booth to the outskirts of the town where Alice Academy of America located, wasn't a track she would be willing to go by feet, unless the taxi caught fire. Considering what she had brought all the way from Japan, Fire was one big possibility.

Her son scowled at her, the face almost similar to her, but slightly marred by the imperfection of the dad's lips, nose and black hair. It got to the point where she had to hide him from the eyes of her fellow scientists, and bringing the little prodigy to work wasn't going to happen anytime soon. She herself wouldn't mind the question that would come, but she doubted her son's birth mother wanted to answer the question like, "Why do _your son_ look so much like Hotaru?"

The boy was wearing dark blue dress pants, collared white button down, black socks and black leather shoes. Everything he wore had to be ironed and pressed to a level of his liking. She had tried to make the five year old wearing sneakers, shorts and baseball tees, but they ended up in a verbal argument about the condition of human labour, making the baseball tees in China, the skid level of the rubber outsoles of the sneakers and the practical compatibility of a five year old who never played baseball in his life with a baseball tee and shorts. There was even some hint about bullies in the Alice Academy playground that her son might have or might had not burned with his gift because they had remarked of what a weakling he was. The logical part of Hotaru decided that dressing the little stuck-up like an actual human being would not worth her time and headache.

"Why aren't we moving?" the little human demanded.

She gave the same scowl. "Ask the man."

"It's a traffic jam!" said the driver once more. "And I can feel you two glaring at the back of my head. Stop it or I'll just dump you two creeps here!"

Hmm. To glare or not to glare.

If she glared, her son and she would be out the door. Then they had to walk thirty five kilometers in the jammed road. Her son would then launch a tirade about the theory of infinite patience until you got what you were looking for. At the time they reached the AA, Hotaru might have throttled her protégé in self-defence, or she might have a third degree burns in ninety five percent of her body from an unknown source. If she didn't glare, they would stay here.

Okay.

Hotaru looked outside the iron prison she was forced to sit in for the last three hours. The tall buildings greeted her, their tall heights and strong foundations only managed to make her scoff. She was familiar with them. She was familiar with this city, this street, this place. She had her two… _wait, was it three…?_ Anyway, she had had her degrees in this United State of America.

It was so long ago, after the trio had found her and her brother and extracted them back into this time period. If not because of 'The Time Loop', Hotaru would have had at least three to four more degrees to her name. Shame, but she couldn't fault her past, not when it had given her enough satisfaction. She had managed to accelerate her studies to match her friends, and graduated with them, after all. It worked because they returned to the Alice Academy, where everyone knew what happened to her and her brother, and she had been given an accelerated course. She had seen her best friend married her other friend five years ago, and although she could make twenty page essays about Natsume's shortcomings, she knew one thing that marked him as the only one for Mikan.

Mikan was Natsume's number one priority, no matter what the AA principal said to his wife, no matter what he did, or pretend to do in front of everyone else. Mikan would always come first. That made Natsume worth the trouble he brought along with his infamous wedding event bordering on disastrous. For the months that followed, Mikan had to run back and forth from America to Japan to deal with the documents and papers, selling out his new sports car and apartment in order to make enough money for her leaving the country, and petitioned the government three times for Spouse Visa.

"I gotta pee," Ifrit incarnation shouted. "I gotta go!"

"You already went to the toilet in the airport," said Hotaru.

"But that's before you gave me the tea," said the boy. "You know how I react to stimulants!"

She knew, and she had said no when he asked for the tea, but in front of the drink machine, the boy launched a diatribe about prodigy in modern times being equal to child prodigy in ancient Greece, that they had never been given anything they wished for, instead being used for what they do best, while the master went on to profit from the theory and innocence of their naïve protégé. Hotaru decided it was not yet time to tell her son that most of the protégé in ancient Greece had laid in bed with their master, and that they had no innocence left after performing in private parties for Greek nobles, in the hall and in bed.

She didn't tell him because: One, it was disgusting for her to even remark of Pederasty, her protégé being her actual son. Two, her son would learn it from someone else later, and then he would realize how good he actually had it, her being a logical woman that had no interest in 'the prodigy's fair skin and pure heart' nor 'incestuous romance' like most Greek or Roman nobles.

Three, it was more disgusting the more she thought about it. To make her feel less filthy thinking about the Greek nobles and their protégés, she poured three cans of tea into her son's throat while mumbling about wishing they were Greek so he actually knew what he said.

Oh. That was why he was hopping on his seat since half an hour ago.

"Burn your penis," she said to her son. "It'll stop your bladder."

The tiny demon scoffed, ignoring the gasp from the taxi driver. "I can't burn myself!"

"I left my clamps at home," she replied.

"What kind of mother are you?" the driver yelled, pointing at her. Her. She who had been sitting here in this thing for _three hours_. "How could you say that to your own flesh and bones? You monster! I'm going to report you to the social service!"

She gave him a droll stare.

He snarled. "Oh, so now you finally choose to stay silent? You… you're not fit to be a mother! How could you threaten your own infant son like that?"

Hotaru looked back to the fragile infant, who was hopping in his seat. "You see the problem? He thinks you're my son."

"I can burn your face so you don't look like me," offered the fragile one with a cringe as he put his hands on his genitals, desperately trying to stop the flow. "But AFTER I PEE!"

Hotaru looked around. She only held a backpack, her small luggage and her son's backpack was in the trunk. There was no plastic bag, no water bottle. Hotaru tried to open the door. She frowned when the door refused to budge. The lock couldn't be pulled. She turned to the driver who watched her with grim eyes, gun in his shaky hand.

"Seriously?" she said. "You can't do that _three hours ago_?"

"I thought I'd pass you up, since you're with your son and all," snarled the driver. "But I don't think I need to hold back with a monster like you, who just have a son because you're pregnant and not because you do care." He took a deep breath. "Wallet, please."

Well, wasn't he a polite one. A robber never lacked manners in this country.

Hmm. To give wallet or not to give.

If she didn't give her wallet, then the gun might explode. The gun was aimed at her, so her prodigy would then assault the taxi driver with his gift. The taxi would explode from inside out, and the fire would reach the sea of vehicles stuck in jam around them, the fuels inside the scorched cars turning the flame into a massive explosion of metals and burnt flesh, reaching to the tallest buildings in the side of the street. The asphalt road would fall under the extreme heat of living hell above it, and the whole city would go down into the core of the earth, accompanied by cries of innocent bystanders eaten by infernos. If she gave her wallet, then her son and she would be kicked out and then her son could go into one of the tall buildings to pee.

Okay.

"I gotta pee!" cried the genital toucher. "Pee! Aaah it's up!"

Hotaru leaned on the door, reaching for the wallet in her back pocket. The moment she leaned her side on the door, the lock sprang from its place and the door slid out from beneath her. Hotaru looked with wide eyes as she fell, back first, into the shadows. The dark fog enveloped her, hugged her into its serene mist.

She waved the darkness in front of her eyes with her wallet in hand, and ignored the scream of the taxi driver. Way too dark to see…

She swallowed when the darkness got too familiar to her liking. She knew this feeling, and she hated it. She hated her four years of looking outside, trying to grab anything that could make her stay in any time period. Her hands never managed to clutch anything to anchor them. Her brother screaming out, begging for anyone passing their transparent forms to listen, to help… the lady with a bonnet, the man with the Sporran on his kilt, anyone…

Anyone…

She still held something. Her wallet. She gripped it in front of her, trying to breathe, trying to understand what was going on. She held something. She wasn't lost. She wasn't. The shadow was familiar, but it wasn't like her past, where she stayed in the dark looking outside, to the world passing them by. It was all dark.

It wasn't the same. She breathed in. It wasn't. God help her, Unreligious as she was, this was not going to be her prison again.

When the mist in front of her receded into nothing, she felt a wet patch under the seat, beneath her right calf. Oh, well. She shouldn't leave her clamps at home.

"Sorry," whispered the wet patch maker. "Is it your new socks?"

"And my new pants," she replied, looking up to the face of the man whose feet she was laying on.

The man was tall, much taller than her. He wore a black leather jacket that was obviously tailored to suit him, white dress shirt, black dress pants and blue tie under the jacket. In one hand, he held a black cylinder tablet. Another cylinder tablet hung on his back, the end rested above a branded leather office bag he slung over his shoulders. And he had wide shoulders. His hair was brown, his eyes were blue. Right now that blue eyes looked down at her, crinkling at the end as he studied her. His nose was straight, his jaw strong. His mouth formed a smile, like he was laughing at her expense.

"Well, well, well," he said. "The Old Maid comes to town."

She studied him from upside down. "You look familiar. Did we ever sleep together?"

He frowned and managed to look surprised yet disgusted at the same time. "It's me. And no, we're not. Not that I knew of."

"Me who?" said Hotaru. The man pulled her up. She shook the wet patch on her pants, before looking up to her quasi-helper. And up. And up.

He looked really familiar. He was half Japanese, half Caucasian, with blue eyes and brown hair. Her previous thought wasn't wrong; he was really tall, with wide shoulders and a lot of baggage on his body, a messenger office bag and two big black cylinder tablets. He scowled as Hotaru studied him more.

"You don't remember me?" he scoffed. "I know we never met again after you got trapped in that Loophole or something, but really? You never even saw me when I studied in Mikan's class?"

That made him younger than her. He knew she was trapped in the Time Loop… but the only one who knew that was the team who had helped her out, and maybe some students who were on the scene. But young kids who knew…

Hotaru had never stepped a foot inside AA after her graduation, only once more for Mikan's wedding and her son's birth. She didn't see any point in reacquainting herself with the students that wasn't a part of her direct circle. Those who knew about the events held themselves back from asking her. There were rumours about her having major panic attacks, and that she never liked being alone because of the incident.

Those rumours were partially untrue. She had her brother with her in the time loop. But for the panic attacks…

"Should I know you?" Hotaru said as she glanced into the taxi. Her son was crawling out. The driver stared at the window, eyes wide. His mouth was wide open, as if he was looking at something that had shaken him to the core. Something scary?

_Like a ghost?_

Hotaru turned back to study the man. The shadow, the darkness, the calm mist enveloping her earlier… Could it be? "Hijiri?"

He smirked, his blue eyes gleamed. "The one and only."

Yoichi Hijiri, the three year old boy Mikan used to carry all over the Academy? Little pint who clung to Natsume all the time? Hotaru looked at him up and down.

He obviously wasn't three years old anymore. "How long has it been since I saw you?"

Hijiri's eyebrow shot up. "Since before you got into the Loophole?"

"Did you eat more Candy?"

He grinned. "Nah, I ate different kind of honey these days. This is the actual age of me."

Hotaru blinked. "Did you just make an innuendo at me?"

"So you noticed?"

"I'm going to say, 'Oh'. And 'Yuck'."

He laughed at her poker face. "You're still the same Imai. I'm not a kid anymore, so why the 'yuck'?"

"You're three years old."

"Add twenty one years to that and you got it right," he said.

Twenty one years? That long… Hotaru never realized she had seen him the first time twenty one years ago. The fact that she had wasted four years of her life among the twenty one years might also add to her shock of seeing him now, all grown up. She shook her head. She didn't want to go there. Not in the middle of the street, in the centre of the traffic jam, while her son was tugging at her shirt.

She looked down at her son. "What?"

"I need to change my pants," whispered her prodigy, shooting Hijiri embarrassed glance.

She squeezed her son's tiny shoulder. "It's okay, it's another one of the Alice people. Hijiri, this is Akira."

Her son buried his face to the side of her waist. "My pants," he mumbled.

Hijiri offered his hand to the five year old. "Hey," he said. "Nice to meet ya. I'm Yoichi."

Akira shook his head, not looking at the offered hand. "I refuse to grace myself to a new acquaintance with a soiled material on my person."

Hijiri grimaced as he stood straight. "I'm going to bet all my life savings he's your son."

"How much we're talking?"

"Doctor Imai," said Akira. "My pants!" he whispered.

"You let your son call you Doctor Imai?" said Hijiri as Hotaru walked towards the driver's door. "Aren't you exercising your Freedom Rights on your family _a little too much_?"

"That life savings you're betting," said Hotaru as she bent down and pushed the trunk button on the side of the driver's seat, ignoring the driver. "I'd like to have it." She headed to the trunk and glanced at Akira. The boy was crouching in front of the open trunk refusing to look at Hijiri.

Akira grabbed his leather backpack and hefted it out the trunk, to the road. He unzipped his backpack and removed a pair of folded black pants. In front of everyone, car and human alike, the five year old unzipped his pants and pulled his pants down, in the middle of the jammed street.

Hijiri blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, only to notice Hotaru walking back to the driver's seat. He circled the car and peered behind her shoulders to see what she was doing.

"You're paying him?" he said. "_You're paying your robber_?"

Hotaru dropped the last of the two hundred and thirty five dollar taxi fare she owed the paralysed driver to the driver's lap, and switched off the meter. "He spent three hours, forty five minutes and twenty six seconds in the taxi with me and Akira. The fare was fair." She stood up, closed the door and turned. Hijiri was still gaping at her, so she raised her hand and pushed his jaw close.

Akira was stripping down his bottom to nude when she pulled out her luggage from the trunk and her backpack from her seat. Hijiri motioned to the stripping boy. The cars around them pressed their horns, either to discourage the boy to strip or to try and shame the mother into covering her son. Some passerby glared at the boy in disgust.

"He refused to shake my hand and then he stripped where everyone can see?" Hijiri said.

"Nudity is overrated," claimed Akira. He took a new underwear from his backpack. "The ancient Greek spent their lives being nude and comfortable with it, the Olympians competed nude, the Greece prodigies studied in the house of their nobles while nude. They only wore cloth to cover themselves inside the Temples in order to not enrage their Gods. Most of the time, Greek needed to wear nothing, especially the young. I learned from the best."

Hijiri walked to Hotaru's side and murmured. "Did he know the real reason the ancient Greek wore cloth inside the temple was because their Gods forced themselves on everyone that took their fancy?"

Hotaru stared into the man's eyes. It was hard because of their height differences. He must be at least 195 cm up. "He's five. Why he would learn about Greece that way?"

He shot her a look. "And yet he learned about Greek nudity?"

"Of course he learned about Greek nudity," said Hotaru. "He's five."

Hijiri frowned, and he opened his mouth trying to say something. He thought about it, glanced at Akira as the boy tossed the soiled underwear and pants into the trunk, and shut his mouth. He shook his head and mumbled.

"So why were you here?" said Hotaru. "Was Mikan tracking me down and sending you as my backup?"

Akira closed the trunk, studied his new attire and nodded.

"No. I didn't even know who you were." Hijiri patted the cylinder tablet on top of his bag. "I was in a meeting with my clients. I walked by your taxi and I thought I recognized you. Well, your son. He's a spitting image of you as a kid. So I waited to see what's going on. When that man pointed a gun at you, I reacted."

"You scared a man into a shock just because he pointed a gun at me?" said Hotaru.

"Wha—just because?" Hijiri gaped. "Just because he pointed a gun _at you_?"

Hotaru stared at him. "That's what I said."

Hijiri clenched his jaw and muttered, "Unbelievable." He grabbed Hotaru's luggage and wrenched it out from her hand. "Just un-believable."

"What are you doing?" Hotaru said, watching Hijiri walk away with her luggage towards the side of the street.

Hijiri looked behind his shoulder. "Look around you. At this hour and this street you won't get another taxi. Don't even think about hitchhiking in this city, not after the stunt your son pulled."

Hotaru wasn't even thinking about hitchhiking. Was there still a hitchhiker in America? She looked around. The taxi driver hadn't been lying when he said it was a traffic jam. She couldn't see a clear road sans vehicles as far as her eyes could reach.

"Who's going to hitchhike?" said Akira as he pulled his wheeled backpack and followed Hijiri to the pedestrian road. "Doctor Imai doesn't have a bikini body to pull up a car."

Hijiri tripped on his own feet.

"We don't need my bikini body," Hotaru said as she clenched Akira's shoulder and shoved him to walk faster. "You can revert to your Greek ways and we'll have the biggest pickup driver stops with his biggest trailer in three minutes."

She thought she heard Hijiri murmured, 'mother and son indeed' as he guided them through the pedestrian road.

Five blocks and twenty minutes later, Hijiri entered a parking building and drew out his car keys. He opened the trunk of a black Benz and put Hotaru's luggage in. Hotaru and Akira waited until he ignited the car before getting in.

"I do declare that this is a nice vessel," said Akira as he placed himself on the back seat. "I hereby claim my rights to stay in this position until all of my subjects reached the temporary abode where I am going to stay."

Hijiri glanced at him from the mirror. "You speak weird. Was your mother teaching you that kind of English? King Lear?"

Sitting next to Hijiri, Hotaru shook her head as she pulled out the seatbelt. "His mother gave him King James' Bible. She wanted to make him less weird."

Hijiri turned to look at the boy. Already using his seatbelt, Akira raised his right hand up in Hail Hitler salute. "God. I am so sorry for your failure."

Hotaru looked outside the window as the Benz rolled outside the parking building. They easily sped past clear, straight road. "Is the area around the airport always that jammed?"

"Just in this past three days. I don't know why," said Hijiri. "I wonder if some other roads are blocked and the cars don't have any other street they can go through. I don't usually park that far away from the meeting place."

Hotaru looked at the back seat, where the cylinder tablets and office bags settled next to Akira, who was now humming a Kill Bill rhyme. "Designer?"

"Architect."

"So you went straight to work after graduation?"

Hijiri gave her a glance. "Yeah. But if you're thinking I'm a fresh graduate, sorry to disappoint. I graduated three years ago, so I'm not a newbie."

Hotaru nodded and looked back at the front window. "Impressive."

"If that's sarcasm…"

"No, it's not. Do you want it to be sarcasm?"

He shrugged. "Mikan told me you're a doctor with so many degrees she lost count. Sorry if I don't really believe that you think I was impressive to graduate at twenty one."

"Death to the Aryans!" said Akira and pointed far ahead to Hijiri's back. "Tonight, we DINE, in HELL!"

"That's two completely different movies," replied Hijiri.

"I'm eclectic," said Akira, and raised his arms up. "Aaaggh! Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary!" He covered his face with his palms. Then he cackled, and cackled, and cackled.

Hijiri gave Hotaru a pitying look. "So his father behaves like you?"

Hotaru had to pause and think about Natsume for a while. "Yes, regarding to his attitude and his logical ways. Although he has a much lower intelligence compared to me."

Akira emitted a high keening sound between his hands. Hijiri bit his lower lips and mumbled, "I never would have guessed."

The Benz took them out from the city, towards the farm area. Hotaru counted a hundred and eight cows before she saw her destination. The Alice Academy of America looked no different than its counterpart in Japan. It was the same size, the same shape, the difference only that it was also in the middle of nowhere. And there were plenty of sheep around the building.

Hotaru watched the building as it got closer… and farther. She turned to Hijiri as the man drove past AA. "What are you doing?"

"Driving you to Mikan's home."

Hotaru pointed at the building behind them with her thumb.

"Nope. They don't live in his office. Mikan has a mansion," he said with a ghost of a smile in his lips. "It's a pretty estate. You'll like it."

"You're not kidnapping me for ransom, are you?" said Hotaru. "Because I don't worth so many millions."

He hesitated. "Exactly how many millions? In US dollar?" Then he grinned. "Nah. I don't work that way. As I remember it, you're the one who played dirty all the time."

"You hesitated for a while."

"Yeah. Sorry for being human." He pointed ahead. "See that?"

Hotaru did see it. The mansion was real.

As they sped through the open brick gate and colourful flower gardens, Hotaru looked at the red brick building in front of her. It was at least five stories tall, with a dark brown roof. Who knew how large the mansion was from back to back. Tall white columns supported the massive building, with white column windows and big two stories tall white entrance. Hijiri turned along the circular pathway and stopped the Benz in front of the stairs to the entrance. Hotaru opened the door and stared at the building. She looked up. It was huge.

"Mikan has a mansion," she said. "Now I've seen everything."

"You haven't seen it from the inside," said Hijiri as he walked out. Grinning, he ambled to the entrance and grabbed the left handle, under the door knocker. Mikan had a door knocker. The door handles had golden rabbits on top, and the golden kitten with a golden loop in its mouth was the door knocker.

"I thought you were rich, Doctor Imai," said Akira as he hopped out. "But wow. My donor's wife beat you to Japan and back."

Hotaru stared at the door. Hijiri walked inside the mansion. She video-called Mikan every week, and this never came up in the conversation. But Mikan also didn't know about her current status within the company.

Maybe there were some secrets between them.

The entrance opened again, and a woman with long brown hair, a pink sundress and sparkly stiletto sauntered out. Hotaru waved at Mikan. The lady of the mansion brightened up and ran down the stairs, and almost knocked Hotaru back the roof of the Benz when Mikan launched into her.

"Hey," said Hotaru.

"You didn't say you'd come!" said Mikan between sobs, her head buried into Hotaru's neck. "You're here! You're really here!"

"You didn't tell her you're coming?" said Hijiri. He was standing in front of the entrance. "I thought you two had plans!"

"Yeah…" Mikan stopped and pulled back. She glared at Hotaru with her arms clutching Hotaru's elbows. "So what actually are you planning?"

So she wanted to be spontaneous. Was that so surprising? "Can't I just come to see my best friend?"

Mikan looked suspicious. "No, it doesn't sound like you at all. What's going on?"

"Anyhow," said Hijiri, strolling down the stairs. "I've done my part. Gotta get back to my own dwelling." He nudged Hotaru and Akira to the side, and opened the trunk.

"Thank you so much, Yoichi!" said Mikan. "I owe you!"

"You owe me so much, I can live comfortably if I decide to start calling on them," said Yoichi. He placed Hotaru's luggage, backpack and Akira's backpack on the ground next to the boy. "See ya." He unlocked the driver's door and sat in.

"Don't forget about the dinner!" said Mikan.

"Yeah, yeah." Then the door closed, Benz started, and rolled away.

Hotaru watched the Benz disappeared from the brick gate. "You let him take your car?"

"It's his car," said Mikan. "Hi, Akira!"

Akira smiled at Mikan. "I see I am now under your gracious host for the time being. I humbly offer my service as a protégé and student of Doctor Hotaru Imai, and thus I am your servant. Use me as you see fit."

Mikan sighed as she ruffled the boy's hair. "Aren't you precious?"

"The ring!" said Akira, hands clutched in front of his chin as he crowed. "I have the ring!"

"Yeah… would you mind going inside and help me finishing the strawberry cake inside my fridge?"

"It depends. Is this an order?"

Mikan tilted her head. "It is."

"Then your wish is my command!" Akira ran into the mansion.

"You're right," said Mikan to Hotaru as she took Akira's backpack. "He's just getting more precious and a treasure."

"Did I ever say that?" Hotaru said. Following her host, she carried her backpack and luggage into the building. "I told you Akira getting more psychological tests. The video call must've been broken."

"He needs more test? Then what about you?" Mikan dropped the backpack in the front hall. "Just put your stuff there, the maid will carry it into the guest room."

Maid. Hotaru liked having maids too. Hers were rabbit androids variety though. "What about me?"

"My Lady!" said Akira from the back. "I see you have acquired a great number of sulfurs and lactic acid. Do you have any idea how many states we can conquest from grooming lethal bacteria of this kind?"

"Drop the soap boxes!" yelled someone. Hotaru guessed it was the maid. "How on earth did you open that locked drawers?"

Mikan shook her head. "Never mind."

Hotaru looked at the wooden framed big mirror next to her. It was nailed to the wall. Next to the lengthy mirror was a small decorated brown end table, a fat golden rabbit sat on it holding a golden plate. Several keys were stacked on the plate. Around the golden rabbit lay several fresh colourful petals. Hotaru assumed it was from the garden outside.

The front hall was long and wide, with rows of pictures hung on the soft orange wall. Across the mirror was a vintage coat rack. Another end table stood next to the coat rack, similar to the one next to the mirror. On it sat a metal black cat statue. Its eyes were red, and the cat was smirking while sitting on guard. Hotaru stared at the cat for a long time. The owner of the mansion did know how to make it personal.

At the end of the front hall was a large arch into another room, a set of silver dinner table and chairs visible from the arch. Hotaru walked past the wall, looking at the massive chandelier on the ceiling. It was familiar.

"The chandelier…" Hotaru pointed up. "The one Akira burned?"

"Yeah!" said Mikan. "You remembered! That's the one from the Japan hall. We took it and restored it, then shipped it here."

"Nice memento," said Hotaru. She looked at the pictures on the wall.

Some of the pictures were of Mikan and Natsume on their wedding. Hotaru knew they didn't take any pictures of their actual wedding, so this would be a post-wedding pictorial. Looking at the beach behind it, Hotaru'd say Hawaii. Mikan and Natsume cut a rope in front of a building. This would be the Alice Laboratorium of Science that Mikan was now the head of. Natsume sat behind a mahogany table and smiled for the camera. It was his office in America. Mikan and Natsume posed in front of their own flower garden. A few pictures were supposed to be on the wall after it, but there were none. Instead, near the arch to the dining room, Hotaru saw two more pictures.

In one picture, Hijiri was sitting on the dirt, looking to the side. He was wearing worker's overalls, black boots, yellow helmet and builder's gloves. His face was dirty, yet his eyes gleamed as he smiled to whoever was outside the view. Behind him was a half-built area of red bricks and tiled stairs.

"This mansion?" asked Hotaru.

"Yes. Yoichi helped build this mansion. He actually built most of the rooms himself."

"He did?"

"It took seven months to build all this." Mikan waved around her. "Natsume first brought him here because it was easier to adopt him under his name for the green card if the boy was already here on a Visitor Visa. He put Yoichi in this area so that the builders could watch him while Natsume was busy dealing with the labs and the academy. That was before our wedding. As a joke, the head builders told Yoichi that Natsume brought him as a free labour." She laughed. "The joke was on us. When Natsume returned after the wedding, Yoichi had built the front hall, the kitchen… he was so into it he refused to stop. He put most of the bricks. He painted most of the rooms…" Mikan smiled and pointed at the next picture. "I was so amazed when I came here."

In the last picture, Mikan, Natsume and Yoichi posed in front of the brick gate, with the mansion visible between it. Mikan and Natsume grinned at the camera, and Yoichi smirked. His eyes were a little dimmer, as if tired, and he had lost a lot of weight compared to the first picture of him.

"That was when he knew, and we realized, that he really is good at this. He wanted to build a house with his own hands, and he became different."

"Different?"

"Yoichi had a habit of… uh…" Mikan frowned. "How should I say it? He liked to sleep around."

"So he's a slut."

"What?" Mikan shook her head. "No. He…" She slumped. "Well, yes. He's a slut. He slept with almost all the girls in Japan Academy."

"A very easy slut."

Mikan bit her lips and shot her best friend an amused glance. "By calling him a slut it's already noted that he was very easy, don't you think? Anyway, he started taking his studies seriously, because he wanted to be an architect. And now, almost six years later, he really is one of the best in this country."

Hotaru remembered the buildings they went past before they reached the outskirts of town. Were some of them made by Hijiri?

"I'll show you some of his designs and medals later," said Mikan. "He won a lot of awards."

Hotaru shrugged. "Okay."

"So what brings you here?" asked Mikan. "For real?"

_So here goes._ Hotaru looked at Mikan in the eyes. "I'm thinking of enlisting Akira into American Academy."

Mikan blinked. "Really? But… what about Nonoko?"

"What about her?"

"Well, isn't she his actual mother? Not you? She's the one giving birth to him."

"And she gave Akira to me the day he turned four to learn under my guidance. Your point?"

"You're bringing him away from his mother. It's another matter if the boy learns with you in your lab. Your lab is in Japan, Nonoko is in Japan. She can just check on her son anytime she wants."

Hotaru thought about the times Nonoko appeared in the lab to see Akira, uninvited and often. Oh. So that was what she's doing. "So?"

"Hotaru! You can't just bring someone son's away like that!"

"I just did."

Mikan regarded her with suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"Nonoko didn't make Akira's passport. I did. So here he is, and Nonoko is fine with it."

"Fine?" Mikan yelled. Hotaru forgot how high her pitch could reach. "Fine? Nonoko didn't give permission? You kidnapped Akira! Did you actually ask Nonoko if you can bring _her son_ here?"

"I let Akira decide if he wanted to ask for his mother's permission or not. I assume he did ask."

Mikan gaped. "Oh my God!" she turned and ran into the dining room. "Akira! Akira!"

That was it? And Hotaru already prepared a spiel about how Akira was born of Fire Alice, and Natsume was the only one who could understand how hard it was to be dangerous. That didn't come up.

Mikan showed up a few minutes later, Akira in tow.

"You have to call Nonoko now!" the lady demanded.

"Now!" parroted Akira. "It seems like I have to call my mother after all, Doctor Imai."

"I'll talk to Natsume about you wanting to enlist Akira here, but you have to contact his mother first," said Mikan.

"Okay."

"Oh, Hotaru." Mikan hugged her best friend, which of course wasn't reciprocated. "I love that you're here now, because I missed you so much."

"Why? I'm just in Japan."

"But still…"

"It's not like I'm trapped in a loop for four years and you have no way to contact me, is it?"

Mikan's eyes widened in horror.

"Too much?"

"Too soon!" Mikan snapped.

"It's thirteen years ago."

"Forever is too soon!" said Mikan. "Never speak about that again! Don't even joke about it!" She pulled Hotaru into a hug once more. "I don't want to remember _that_!"

"I'm glad you pulled me back," whispered Hotaru into Mikan's ear.

"Always," replied Mikan. "I'll always pull you back."

-x-

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-x-

_What do you think of this sequel?_


	2. The Beautiful Curves

**Christmas Cake**

**Chapter 2 **

**The Beautiful Curves**

* * *

-x-x-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was too soon for her to feel pleased about the lack of progress on her brother's part.

"He called again," her director said over the phone. "He demanded me to tell him where you are, because, as I quote, 'the booklets had been sent to your apartments days ago and you have to give your review over the candidates he had chosen for you.'"

It wasn't a booklet, it was a thick dictionary. It had been long gone, dropped into a chute. Then she had called the trash company, claiming that the neighbours next door forgot to pack up their books when they left and threw one, rather irresponsibly, into a chute in hope that the trash company wouldn't bill them on leaving a trash without paying. A dictionary wasn't a sofa or a TV left on the street, but still, that took care of two matters. Her leaving neighbours had tried way too hard on introducing her to someone. Anyone, they said, will do. Anyone is better than living alone for the rest of your life and die with cats eating your body.

"Don't tell him where I am," said Hotaru. She stood over the window, in the dark, staring at the bright lights from Laboratorium of Science not fifty meters from the bedroom Mikan had given her.

"I can't. I don't even know where you are."

"Good. How's Malice?"

"You've only been gone for thirty hours, Imai. Nothing's new."

"Call me when something's up." Hotaru disconnected and threw her smart phone on the bed. She stared at the small tent in the backyard of the Lab. What was in there? There was a light inside, and a shadow of a head appeared in the tent. Short hair, might be a man. Might be a scientist staying for the night.

She had a plan, but mostly it would work only if her brother didn't tune into his somewhat creepy ability to stalk her and demanded her to marry a man of his choosing. She closed her eyes, leaned her head on the window pane and slowly knocked her forehead on the glass.

If only her brother didn't bring that professor with him. Hotaru opened her eyes and looked down at her watch. It was only fifty hours ago that his meddling got into a new low.

-x-x-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-x-x-

The restaurant was kind of high-class for what they were used to. Hotaru followed the host into a corner, where two men sat on a square table, under a dim chandelier. Behind them was a glass door, showing a pool outside. She was staring at the man with a balding head and thick glasses next to his brother.

"Hey, Hotaru," said Subaru. He motioned her to come closer to their table. "Come."

She moved, rather stiffly, towards the table. Her brother had insisted them to eat their monthly dinner in one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. She didn't really bother wondering about it back then, but now…

"This is Masakura," said Subaru. The man stood and offered his hand. Hotaru looked down at his hand, that was damp with sweat. Then she stared at Subaru. Her brother raised his brow.

They were still in the same position one minute later, until the man lowered his hand and shifted on his feet.

"I've heard a lot about you, miss Imai," said the man and sat down. Hotaru looked at the single chair left on the table, that sat across from the man. She dragged the chair to place it across from her brother. Hotaru plopped down and glared at her only surviving relative.

"Really?" she said. "REALLY?"

Of course Subaru didn't have it in him to at least looked ashamed. If any, he brightened up and smirked. "As I told you, I'd help you any way I can."

"The best way you can help me is to get the hell out of my personal life."

"You have no personal life."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't appreciate you butting in on what's already a nonexistent entity."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're old. You're single. You haven't dated anyone since that poor crocodile hunter left you with a much younger woman." Subaru flinched and glared. "Did you just kick my shin?"

"It wasn't me. I was aiming at your genital."

The old man peered to Subaru and Hotaru's faces. "I… think I shouldn't be here?"

"Exactly," said Hotaru.

"No, you're my guest," said Subaru. "And she's exactly like what I just told you. Single, old, completely available, and looking for a husband." He jumped. "You kicked my thigh!"

"So I missed again."

"Don't be such a damn old maid, Hotaru. Look at you. What's your status right now? You're a genius, and you have a responsibility to give birth to the next generation of bright prodigies. You completely missed all that in your twenties. So I have to make sure you at the very least try to make three children before you turn sour in the next five years." Subaru raised his chin. "Remember, thirty-five's the median for your womb to turn dry. You don't want that."

"It's my womb. It's my womb to care for and it's my womb to worry about." Hotaru stood. She had tried to kick her brother's genital so many times in the past minutes, but they've had these dances for years and he was experienced enough to avoid all her aim. "You have eight children. Eight. You left all of them at home with your wife in order to preach to me about my nonexistent private life? Go take care of your own family."

"My family is fine. My wife knows how to take care of our children." Subaru stood, and pointed at the chair. "Sit. You're also my family, and you're not fine. You're avoiding this whole subject because it worries you if the man rejected you, like that crocodile hunter. You worry that they will leave you and you will end up alone, without anyone to take care of you."

"It's me who worry to be all alone?" Hotaru raised her brow. "It wasn't me who marry someone he had just met in a week, six months after we got out of the loophole. It wasn't me who produce child after child after child to make sure I'm not 'missing out' on the whole genealogical tree after four years being alone with my sister in the loophole, not knowing if I'll ever be able to touch the outside world ever again. It wasn't me who dragged my sister to every blind date to every kind of man I could think about, to make sure she also produces child after child after child, and ensuring Imai line lives."

Subaru made an aborted motion that looked like a bristle. But her brother never bristled. "I did what is necessary for our family. You, on the other hand, were so focused on being the best and care only for yourself. You don't think about how to make sure our gene survived through the next generation. You only matters to you and me. Nobody else wants you. You're cold, you're sexually inactive for years. You don't even think about intimate relationships. No wonder your crocodile hunter left you for a younger, much more fertile woman." Subaru knocked on the table. "But no matter. Sit, and let's talk with the professor about the date of your engagement. You have no more years left of you for dawdling."

Hotaru turned and walked away. She didn't stop even as he shouted and claimed that he would cut her off his family line.

He already had eight more Imais to replace her anyway.

-x-x-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-x-x-

Hotaru prided herself on being the objective, no-nonsense scientist. But the way the latest fiasco of her brother's meddling game still made her blood boil. All this time she thought he had given up after their third massive fight in June. But of course, as long as she's still, apparently, 'childless', he would always nip at her heels.

She thought after eight children, her brother would be so busy, but of course with her brother's wife being so efficient, the doctor decided to focus on his sister's single status. Because everyone needed to marry and apparently she needed to give a child to continue the Imai gene. There were two Imais this generation and both had to produce. That was the only thing Subaru obsessed about. During their time in the loophole, he kept talking about not wanting to die alone. She never realized his obsession would go this far.

Telling Subaru about her son wouldn't go well. He'd go to the court and insisted that Akira became an Imai, and then the secret would spill into a public affair. Subaru cared only about himself, and if he could make another Imai out of his sister, that was exactly what he would do.

Hotaru massaged the back of her head as he walked out of her room. This wasn't what she had envisioned when she told Nonoko and Yuu about the process years ago.

Thanks to her job as a chemist, her own Alice gene and constantly handling radiated chemical, Nonoko only had her period once a year, thus she had an extremely limited ovulation time. Yuu's sperms weren't strong enough to enter an egg. Despite knowing about both their issues during their pre-wed test, Nonoko and Yuu had married right out of high school. They've tried timing it, even sending their own eggs and sperms for the tube baby. Nothing had happened. Millions wasted.

Three years later, the couple asked Hotaru if she could brainstorm with Nonoko and make fertility pills or something, that normal pharmacy couldn't provide. For Hotaru, rather than spending years making and testing pills that might not work and another decade waiting for the results, this seemed like a great idea. She was a regular, and she had a strong hunch Natsume wouldn't have Yuu's problems. The probability was much more acceptable. If the child turned out to be a mix of Natsume and her, it was just a very lucky coincidence. She didn't care for lines like Subaru did.

And now the super-expensive imported tube baby was back in America, and went on a quest to find more maids in his father's mansion to stress out.

Maybe Subaru would never find out. Akira had never met her brother, nor that she ever intended to introduce him. Subaru might not recognize her face in her son.

Right. How much more naïve could she be?

She saw Natsume as she closed the door. He was leaning on the second floor railing. He had loosened his blue tie and removed his suit, and only wearing a grey buttoned down and black pants. His long bangs had fallen off his forehead and he looked relaxed. He didn't look any different from five years ago. He grunted as he saw her and gave a 'don't exactly want to say hi but I'll do it out of my very limited courtesy' wave with his left hand.

"Just don't bother," said Hotaru, returning the wave with a 'don't even want to meet you but this is your home' wave.

"Mikan's told me what's up," said Natsume, leaving the railing and said as he sauntered to her, "No."

"You didn't even get to hear the proposal of guilt-tripping I planned to preach on you."

Stopping in front of his guest, Natsume stuffed his hand into his pants pocket. He didn't look impressed. "Yeah, exactly. That kid belongs in Japan. Package him back."

"Stuffing a live toddler into a box like a sarcophagus in a crate isn't a simple task." Hotaru folded her arms. "For one, I don't even know where he is right now."

"That's easy. He's in my room. You know why? Because he is sleeping on my pillow." Natsume scowled. "On my bed. Under my blanket. Next to my wife. You know why?"

Hotaru raised her brow. "The pillows you served us are smelly. It was like bougainvilleas peppered with musk. Do you know how unattractive deer balls are when mixed with street flower?"

"Because you brought the little shit here!" Natsume said. Well, that's also true, but Hotaru preferred the deer balls motive. "Every little shit hangs off Mikan! Just like the giant shit living on the back of our lab!"

Huh? "The who?"

"Don't pretend you don't know. He was the one delivering you and the little shit here." Natsume narrowed his eyes. "What, you thought he lived in some sort of an apartment? Despite having money to buy it, he won't. You know why?"

Hotaru shrugged. She didn't care. "I'll let Akira sleep in your room then. Take care of him." And she walked down the stairs.

"You _let_ him sleep in _my room_? Wait a—you listen to me!" Natsume followed his guest down. "Where do you think you're going at midnight?"

"Running away from you, as it turns out." Hotaru made her way to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and squatted in front of it. "Why is there only organic trash inside your fridge?"

"Organic is not trash," said Natsume. He pushed the fridge door close and made Hotaru leaned back. "Take that little boy out of my room. Now. And you, go home tomorrow morning. I don't want to see you during breakfast."

"Don't worry. I woke up at 11, no way I'll go down for breakfast for the sole purpose of honouring my host." Hotaru scrunched her face. "You know what, if you want that boy out of your room, and us out of your life, the best thing you can do is make your own little shit. So Mikan doesn't have to look so hopeful every time I mentioned Akira."

"She likes a baby that she doesn't have to raise herself. Akira is practical. Long, long time ago, a scientist named Hotaru Imai promised us she'll look into the matter of removing the Alice gene out of the DNA entirely, thus cleaning our next generation out of Alice once and for all." Natsume leaned on the fridge and ignored Hotaru trying to pull the door open. "Five long years had passed. I wonder what happened to the scientist? Someone better told me she's dead or went MIA in Alaska trying to find the cure."

"She made millions on her own Malice Toy productions. I heard the rich principal gave her no money, that's why she decided to research into it just wasn't worth her time." Hotaru stood. "It might be a different case if, let's say… the principal gave her a job as the lead scientist in the Lab. In America. Then she might have an easier access to Alice gene and research."

Natsume rolled his eyes. "In your dreams."

"Then off you go," Hotaru said. "Go breed another Akira."

Natsume closed his eyes. "This isn't a laughing matter. Akira has an exact Fire Alice, like me. It was hell growing up as an abomination. That isn't what I want for our girl. She has to be normal."

"There you go. You already planned a daughter." Hotaru tilted her head. "Another Carrie… I might see a future in film there."

Natsume barred his teeth and spat out, "What part of 'normal' don't you get?"

"Everything. You know, instead of imagining having a daughter, what about the abomination currently sleeping in your bed? One more year, and he'll have to enter Alice Academy Elementary." Hotaru watched Natsume paled. "You still remember what it was like, right?"

Natsume swallowed. "P-Persona is-isn't in there anymore. Yuu and I already made sure there's no more Persona in our Academy. Maybe…"

"The worst part growing up as an abomination," said Hotaru, "is how your everyone around your age avoids you."

Natsume looked away.

"Feeling alone, because you are different." Hotaru studied the principal's haunted face. "Maybe you'll survive into adulthood. Sometimes you just wish you don't wake up tomorrow. Sometimes, the feeling of loneliness is so great, you want to tell someone, but nobody understands, because they don't have what you have."

Natsume frowned. He said nothing.

"But what if…" Hotaru took a deep breath. "What if you're not alone? What if there's an adult, a very prominent figure, who has the same thing as you do? What if he's close by? Then you're not alone. He'll be there. He knows what you've been through. He knows what's going on with you. How to handle your temper so you don't burn anyone, how to hone your Alice. He knows, because he is you. He will not steer you wrong. He will protect you. He will make sure you grow up loved for being what you are. What if… when you, Natsume, grew up, you have someone like that?"

The sides of Natsume's eyes grew damp.

Okay. Time to back off a little. She had enough bullets to guilt-trip him to hell and back.

"What about the giant shit though?" Hotaru asked.

"Wh-" Natsume cleared his throat and shook his head. "What?"

"What's his story?" Hotaru thumbed to a direction of the Lab. It might be behind her, who knew with all the thick walls in the kitchen. She wasn't a navigator. "College debt? Because living in a tent when he can build his own house screams desperate money problems."

Natsume took Hotaru's hand and pointed the thumb to the fridge. Oh, so that's where the Lab was. "I paid his college tuition. He paid it off with his award money two years later. Yoichi has no debt. He told me he will build his own house. Until then, he will never sleep in a building." The principal sighed. "It's more like a stupid brainless oath for me. During winter we have to drag his frozen ass here and feed him anything to keep him warm."

"So that's his specialization? He builds houses." Hotaru shook her thumb. "I thought he was one of the architects of skyscrapers or hotels."

"He does get involved in one or two hotel projects when the residential projects end and he's idle," said Natsume as he walked away. "Follow me. His own style really shines when he builds a house. Tall buildings tend to be modern and international looking. He can't show what he's good at in tall buildings."

Hotaru followed Natsume into a library. Natsume walked over to one of the massive wooden bookcases that reached the ceilings and covered the whole library walls. He pulled one book open and drew out a folded paper. He headed to a standing writing desk on the corner under a window. He opened the paper into a huge coloured poster. "This is one of his award-winning house. The house itself worth two million dollars. The landowner gave him a big bonus after they saw the end result."

Natsume put the poster on the desk, and Hotaru walked over to see it.

The first thing she thought about the three story house was sex. The house was painted blood red, with sensual curves framing what traditionally a square block of exterior wall. Instead, the wall looked like a Spanish guitar, curve of a woman's beautiful shape. The roof of the house, or what now looked more and more like a twin peak of a female, had two windows in the centre of the beige roof. The windows were round, small, with pink glass. Aside from the twin pink glass on twin peak roof, the oval windows on the first, second and third story house, all had red coloured glasses, and from afar looked just like the wall. The double front door, placed somewhat conveniently on the centre south of the shape, was made from a black wood. The door handles were pink, and shiny. The big handles formed a square, pink shiny square, right in the centre of the black wooden front door.

Around the house was brown ground with some barely grown patch of red herbs here and there. At first it looked a bit too simple, but if you take note of the shape of the house, and add the brown, reddish ground with only a bit of red herbs growing _around_ the house, with its red leaves shyly covering the lower part of the curved wall, it took on a whole new meaning.

Framing the house was two beige coloured mushrooms-shaped garden canopies. The centre pillar holding the canopy was so thick and the mushroom roof was… Wait… Was it mushroom… or…

"He was horny when he designed this," said Hotaru. "Wasn't he?"

"This is actually one of his more modest design," said Natsume. "His latest award-winning design is way too intense to be shown to you. I'm too ashamed to explain when my colleagues asking me about it."

Sex did sell, thought Hotaru. But she had never, aside from visiting a sex museum in Korea once, saw a house that unabashedly screamed lust and red hot passion.

"He didn't exactly turn into a gentleman," said Hotaru. "So he didn't sleep around anymore, but it all goes into his design."

"Americans liked it," said Natsume. "I was embarrassed, Mikan turned as blood red as the wall when she saw the finished project, but we're in America. Americans, especially those new hipsters and weird rich people, they loved it. That's what matters."

Because they paid, and that's how the young architect made his dollar.

"He's not selling houses," Hotaru said. Natsume folded the poster. "He's selling sexual dreams."

Natsume shrugged. "I don't even want to think about what kind of house he wants to build for himself. It's just…" he grimaced. "Nope, not thinking about it."

Hotaru did, as she followed Natsume out the library. His design for his own house would be so outrageous. Something so sensual, so provocative, lust thrown right to your face that a normal Japanese would never, ever want to go into.

Someone like her brother never wanted to go into that kind of house.

-x-x-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-x-x-

He pulled the zipper down, and lunged. He almost stabbed her with his G-pen before he realized who the shadows tiptoeing around his tent was. He scowled at the woman. She wore a simple white shirt and blue shorts. On her feet was a pair of house sandals. He should have closed the gate, but there was no point in locking the Lab gate where you lived in the middle of nowhere. The only visitors were some straying sheep. She might look pale, but she's not a furry cute white sheep. Instead, the queen of audaciousness looked at him like it was normal for her to skulk around in the darkness, waiting for her chance to dissect him.

Wait, it might be normal for her.

"What the hell are you doing here, sneaking up on me like that?" Yoichi Hijiri demanded. "Do you know what time it is?"

Hotaru Imai looked down at her watch. Of course it was one of those snobbish Swiss brand. "Two AM. I didn't."

"Didn't what?"

She looked up, trying to meet his eyes. She lifted her body up, and he saw her tiptoeing to try and look farther up than his chin. Why was she so short? "I didn't sneak up on you. I had claimed, in the house, that I am going to see you right now. Thus, I am not sneaking up on you. There is a claim that I am visiting."

He stared. She stared back. He growled, "And who listened to you when you claimed that you are going to see me?" Please, let it be Natsume, so he'd show up right about now and drag the High Insolenceness back into the house. Now.

"I, myself, had heard the claim. Therefore, it is enough."

Ugh. Yoichi looked down at his pen, and he had lost the pointed end. He needed the G pen to draw. He looked down. It was dark aside from the lights coming out of his tent. Double ugh. "Go home."

"It is hard for me to go home."

Yoichi pointed to the visible mansion house behind the lab's high fence. "Walk. Five minutes, straight. Open the gate, walk in, open the door, walk in. Open the door to your room. Go into your room. Get under the blanket. Lay down. Close your eyes. And for the sake of my sanity, sleep for at least a week or so."

"It's not my house. To get into my house, I need to walk at least… four months and five days from this place for a fourteen hour walk a day." Hotaru blinked. "It might be a little easier to fly, but I haven't booked a flight. Hijacking a plane might work, but I haven't a weapon on me, and I am too small to be an intimidating criminal. I haven't brought my passport, so I will have to return to the house of Mikan to collect the necessary equipment in order to hijack-"

"Why did I even think about pulling an all nighter?" said Yoichi to himself as he walked into his blue tent. "It's too late to even comprehend what you're trying to convey. I don't even want to try."

"I am going to enter your abode," claimed Hotaru as she walked in behind Yoichi. "Just so you wouldn't point me as an ingrate for not telling you my plan."

Yoichi threw the pen on the desk and drew a tired palm down his face.

Hotaru looked around the big tent. It was a huge tent, with two rooms. In the first chamber, where Hotaru now stood, Yoichi placed a drawing desk with a stool near the door. Next to it was a wooden crate filled with rolls of paper and iron rulers. The desk had several blueprints on it, all in several stages of completion. Yoichi's bag sat leaning on the wooden crate. Across the drawing desk stood a long iron table filled with cooking utensils. Underneath the table was a mini fridge, next to it a low cabinet. On another chamber, a thick king-sized mattress layered with plastics lay on the ground. On the corner of the sleeping chamber stood a medium sized simple iron cabinet, a full body mirror and one simple table. Nothing was on the table.

On top of the mattress was one pillow, one bolster and one folded up blanket. Yoichi hadn't slept on it tonight. Both chambers had oil lamps hung from the centre of the tent ceilings.

"You lived simply," said Hotaru.

"Thanks. Not that it's a compliment coming from you." Yoichi sat on the stool. He wore a blue turtleneck sweater and blue long pants. He still wore his black sneakers. Under the shade of the oil lamp, his eyes turned so dark it looked black. His hair was messy like he had run his fingers through it during the night. His face appeared unforgiving, thick eyebrows, nose straight, jaw iron-strong, as if a punch to his face would only break the hitter's bones. For anyone else other than Hotaru, Yoichi looked menacing. His sheer size made the tent look modest. If Hotaru stayed alone in this tent, it would be a big two room house for her.

Yes, this could work. "It's not a compliment. An architect living in a tent is dumb."

Yoichi looked up and stared at the oil lamp. He looked like he was counting inwardly. "So?"

"I have stated my opinion. I assume you understand that why it is dumb."

"You do realize I weigh way more than you and I can throw you out of this dumb tent anytime I well please?"

"Yes, I realize."

He stared. She stared back. He closed his eyes, and put his big palm over his face. He sighed.

"I will tell you the reason of my visit."

He made what sounded like a pained noise.

"Is that okay? You looked so tired."

He glared at her from between his fingers. "Please," he snarled. "Don't let technicalities like this being two AM and me not appreciating this damn event at all hold you back from the reason of your visitation."

She nodded. "Thank you."

He let out a guttural growl.

"I will hire you to build me my own house. In here. Right next to Mikan's mansion. The more outrageous you can make my house look like, the more you make me look like a sexual deviant, the better I will pay you."

-x-x-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-x-x-

**TBC**

* * *

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Author's Note: Second chapter! Whew, never thought I could finally write from Hotaru's POV. What a crazy experience… from Mikan I go right onto Hotaru…

Before you all ran away from the crudeness of the language in this story and why I still rate it a T, let me explain. I always write the language based on the character's POV. In Seven Days, most of the POV was Mikan's. Her language reflected her passion, thus the language in the story was flowery and dreamy, also polite despite sometimes blunt. Natsume also had some POV in Seven Days, and his were more rude, angry and arrogant, because he obviously wasn't Mikan. Luca, or Ruka, or whatever he's called right about now, had a very polite, hesitant, sarcastic tone.

In Christmas Cake, we read the story on Hotaru's POV. Hotaru tells it like it is. She's pretty levelheaded but when it comes to language, she doesn't hold back _anything_. She also tends to think in complex terms. Hence why there is no need to up the rating of the story. Whatever crudeness littering this story thanks to Hotaru, all going to read _completely different_ if only the story is re-told from Mikan's POV.

I did plan to make some other old characters appear, but which one first…?


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